Under the Sun
by Kerosene Stevens
Summary: Dave's not sure what he was expecting when he prayed to the gods, but a scrawny grey kid in red is not it.
1. Chapter 1

"So I never prayed to any of you guys before. I know they tell you to in school and all that, but I always just sort of sat there with my eyes closed and pretended. Guess I regret it now." He coughed and shifted a little on his knees, searching out a more comfortable position on the hard wood floor. "I get that it's selfish of me to be asking for help now, but. Well, I really need it.

"My name's Dave Strider, but I guess as gods you already knew that. In that case, you know about my bro… Bro. He's cool. We don't really do much, just sort of staying out of everyone else's way and minding our own business, like a Strider. Listen, do I have to keep my eyes closed the whole time?" Dave blinked anyways, the twitch hidden behind his shades. "I don't have to start over or anything, right? Ok." He shifted, again, and took a deep breath. "So uh. Right. Well, Bro went missing a few days ago. It was fine at first, cuz it's Bro, and he does that sometimes, but he's always back in two days and it's been longer than that.

"Some weird people live in this apartment. They like to come up and ask for shit, and Bro's always around to tell 'em off and send 'em home. Well he's not here this time, and they came over this morning. I get the feeling Bro's not gonna be home anytime soon, and I don't know what to do cuz the guys, they said they'd bust in and wreck the place tomorrow if they don't get what they want. I don't know what they want, but it's not like they told me. They're not afraid of me either, and the door's not gonna hold them tomorrow morning if they want in.

"There's one of you that stands for protection. The red guy. The knight. Well, Knight of, uh, Protection, I'm asking you to please help me. I can't do anything, but if Bro doesn't come home they'll wreck my house and maybe burn it down and they sounded like they wanted to hurt me, too, and I —" Dave swallowed, took a moment. "Please help me. Thanks. Um, amen."  
He sat back on his ankles and opened his eyes, feeling for all the world like he'd accomplished nothing.

"Right," he said aloud. "Dinner."

It was only three in the afternoon, but all that focusing on whatever higher beings may be out there had honestly left him feeling a little wrung out. He had no idea how church regulars did it every day. With a put-upon sigh, Dave got to his besocked feet and slid over to the fridge in a totally awesome, completely ironic manner. So cool. Look at him go, all suave and effortless and oh shit no he did not just fall, fuck you very much.

There was half a supreme pizza and three pickles in the fridge. Good enough.

He spent the rest of the day lounging about, glancing out the window, and half-heartedly doing dishes. He carefully didn't think about the prayer, or what wouldn't come from it. 'snot like anything would happen, anyways.

Every prayer is just words to empty air.

**8**

The doorbell rang.

Dave groaned loudly and rolled over in his cot, tumbling to the floor. The doorbell rang again as he fought to open his eyes, untangle himself from the sheets, and paw around for his sunglasses simultaneously. Needless to say, he didn't get very far. He did get an eyeful of the clock, though: 3:17 AM.

The doorbell rang a third time. This time, Dave swore very loudly at it.

In apparent response, the person at the door jabbed the little doorbell button repeatedly, very clearly conveying their increasing frustration.

"I'm coming! Fuck!" Dave shouted, shedding the sheets and snatching his sunglasses from his bedside table. If this asshole was going to visit at three in the morning, they could deal with seeing him in his boxers. He stomped across his room, wrenched his door open, marched down the hallway in a way that put across his own irritation. Looked like his visitor got it, because they stopped. Finally.

Further expressing his displeasure, Dave yanked the front door open and glared.  
"What the hell do you want," he snarled, his line of vision dropping from his eye level to a good four inches lower. He stared. Readjusted his shades. Blinked a few times. Stared some more. "What."

The first thing he really registered was red. His visitor stood frowning up at him from under an oversized crimson hood, draped in a dozen more shades of it from head to toe. Their skin was grey, their hair a shiny black. It took him a moment, but Dave eventually made the connection between who was before him and the face he grew up pretending to worship. He suddenly cared very much about the fact that he was wearing only boxers and shades.

"Uh," he started, but the Knight of Protection cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up and let me in," he growled, waving his arms. "I don't have time for your stammering bullshit." When Dave didn't move, he added, "Shoo! Inside! And shut your stupid mouth too, fuck. No one wants to see your tonsils."

**8**

_So you may have seen this drifting around on tumblr! I was inspired by equier's art and posted a little drabble, which quickly grew completely out of control so I did another - here we are now, on AO3 with this thing I'm throwing at you. I need a beta, if anyone feels like putting up with my shit. My tumblr url is porrimistheclassiestlesbian. c: I'm definitely up for discussion over the plot, by the way. This one's a little iffy._

_My fics are mainly run by reader-response! If I don't get any feedback, I don't know how I'm doing. ): That sucks. Also, if you've got an idea you want to share, I'm very likely going to implement it. So, please share your thoughts!_


	2. Chapter 2

_just_ _inching along until I solidify the plot oh god_... _also HERE: porrimistheclassiestlesbian. tumblr post/59611662441/vantasticmess-porrimistheclassiestlesbian is where the inspiration for this came from. just get rid of all the spaces. check it out! __contact me via pm or on tumblr (my url is porrimistheclassiestlesbian) if you have any questions! uvu_

**8**

"Oh my fucking god," Dave said blankly. The Knight jerked in a full-body flinch, looking for all the world like he'd been slapped hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps. His look of momentary shock morphed into a furious snarl and Dave decided he'd said the wrong thing.

You watch your fucking mouth, shitwad," the Knight hissed into Dave's face. "Didn't your elders ever tell you to never say your god's name in vain?" He scoffed, looking away angrily. "It's like you assholes do it on purpose or something."

"Um," Dave said awkwardly, "sorry?" Then, "you're not the only god." Because he was processing very little very slowly and all he could think of was how that would go against everything everyone had been taught.

"No," the Knight grunted, "but I'm the one whose help you asked for." He still refused to look up at Dave, and maybe it was because of the height difference, or maybe because the scratched up wood floor was more interesting than his face (a thought he immediately pushed away) and Dave didn't call him on it. He did try to speak, though.

"Sssssso I offended you how?"

Now the Knight looked up, if only to make sure he could see the god's dramatic eyeroll. "In the house, Strider."

Dave allowed himself to be shoved back into his own home with only mild irritation, watching (his?) the deity close and lock the door behind them.

It hit him how he automatically assumed this guy was the actual Knight of Protection. For all he knew, he could have been some nutjob neighbor he'd never met or something. He realized a moment too late that this stranger knew his name — his surname, anyways, and that made sense because practically no one in the building knew him personally. It didn't explain away the grey skin and yellow eyes, but people dressed up as the gods on occasion. He watched the supposed Knight settle on his conveniently bare couch, readjusting his scarlet robes as he moved like some sort of princess.

At this point, Dave would usually go on some rant that danced around the subject of fake identities and cosplay, but it was three in the morning and he was tired of this shit before it could get started. "Who are you," he said bluntly.

The stranger bared his (sharp) teeth in a grimace. "Who do I look like?" he demanded. "The fucking Knight of Protection, you idiot, don't you look at all the altars and shit?"

"Well yeah, but how do I know you are who you say you are?" Dave insisted. The Knight scowled.

"Do I need to outline your prayer to you?" he asked. "I can do that, you know, even if it's a shitty waste of time, if it'll make you feel better. No, shut up," he added when Dave opened his mouth to argue, "and listen to me. We don't hear everyone's prayers, okay? Only special ones, like a child's first prayer to their favourite deity or someone with a real, desperate need for help. All the ones in between are cute, or sad or what the fuck ever but there's so many they're just white noise. The big ones are like someone yelling our ears. Yours," he jabbed a finger at Dave, "nearly deafened me. That tells me you don't do prayers much, and I was probably the deity you chose to be your patron in your first prayer."

There was a short, vaguely guilty silence, in which Dave deliberately didn't fidget or look anywhere but at the Knight's left ear.

"That was your first prayer, wasn't it?"

"Hey," Dave said, the helpless note clear in his voice as he put his hands up defensively, "I'm a busy guy."

If looks could kill, Dave would have been burnt to ash right then and there.

**8** _Pretty please, leave a review? I love them so much and they're a big source of inspiration for me! I would seriously appreciate it!_


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